At Dulcie, we are drawn to projects that reveal how living systems think through material. Trichotech, by Teresa Colombo, is one such project, a conceptual, biomimetic adhesive inspired by caddisfly larvae, whose underwater silk challenges conventional ideas of adhesion, strength and repair. Caddisfly larvae live fully submerged and protect themselves by building tiny cases from sand, plant fibres and other fragments.
CYTO by Karina Frances explores cellulose as a regenerative material for future making practices. Developed from textile waste, the material is transformed into pulp and shaped using handcrafted techniques rooted in early papermaking traditions. Karina creates sculptural forms and material samples that demonstrate cellulose's potential for cyclical production. This return to fundamental processes reflects a focus on understanding materials from their most basic state, where change begins not with extraction but with rethinking what already exists.
Every step we take leaves a trace. In footwear, that trace is usually microplastic pollution, with synthetic particles building up in our oceans and soils. These materials enter food chains and ecosystems, with effects we are only beginning to understand. Biological Footprint offers a different approach by proposing shoes that give something back, rather than taking away.
In Swedish harbours, a quiet problem is developing beneath the water. Oil films and heavy metals do not remain on the surface. They spread through the whole body of water, reaching the seabed where kelp forests grow, and young fish take shelter. These pollutants disrupt the delicate chemical signals that marine life depends on, affecting everything from how shellfish form their shells to how algae carry out photosynthesis.
Infinity Blue is a circular colour-sharing system that recovers synthetic indigo from discarded denim, transforming waste into a sustainable resource. It reflects the kind of closed-loop thinking found throughout natural systems, where nothing is discarded, and everything contributes to something else.
It’s Monday morning and the studio smells of roasted coffee and wine. The kiln has been on overnight with around 150 ceramic diffusers inside, and large ceramic pipes filled with coffee husks have transformed into ash for glazing. The air is warm and toasty. The day started, as it always does, with coffee. Lights on, fill the kettle, prepare the V60. I use ground coffee from Dark Woods and today I have blended Driftwood with decaf, a somewhat controversial mix that I am sure would not be approved by coffee enthusiasts.
Approximately 840 disposable coffee cups are required to produce one square metre of Cupsan. This figure represents the material density of Blast Studio's approach to transforming urban waste into functional biomaterial. Blast Studio has developed Cupsan at the intersection of biomaterial science and circular design. The material begins as post-consumer coffee cup waste: paper fibres that have already been processed and used. Through a partnership with a local waste management company, these cups are diverted from the waste stream.
Yingying Lu, a jewellery designer trained in Biodesign at Central Saint Martins, explores the afterlife of botanical rituals by transforming the herbal waste left behind from wellness practices into jewellery that carries the memory of nourishment and care. Working with discarded botanical materials, her practice is rooted in the belief that the same plants that nourish us through teas, tinctures and seasonal rituals can offer a second life as material for adornment.
Jessie Von Curry has been working with unconventional materials for years: mycelium, seaweed, and textile waste, turning them into sculptures, costumes, and installations that question how we make things. We've featured her work, Plantspeak, before, drawn to how she uses raw, natural, and sometimes living materials to communicate complex ideas about our relationship with the natural world, much like we do in our own practice with our products formulated with seaweed extracts.
Jeans are among the most widely worn garments on the planet. Their appeal lies in the details: a specific cut, a shaped pocket, a line of contrast stitching. These small choices carry traces of history, craftsmanship, and innovation. The basic design hasn't changed much in over 150 years. What has changed is the scale and speed of production and the environmental cost that comes with it. Approximately 3.5 billion pairs of jeans are manufactured each year. Behind each pair is a trail of soil depletion, water contamination, poor labour conditions, and textile waste. The conventional denim industry is one of fashion's most resource-intensive sectors.
By 2049, we might be eating the plastic crisis. Odette Dierkx's Plastik Protein project imagines bioengineered fungi that consume PET bottles, polyurethane foam, and plastic bags, converting plastic waste into edible mycelium protein. The delivery format: chocolate bars, each labelled with the specific waste stream it remediated.
Urushi is tree sap — a material as ancient as the craft it shaped. Harvested from lacquer trees across Southeast Asia, refined through traditional methods, yet never fundamentally altered. Naturally water-resistant and heat-resistant, it develops a distinctive gloss over time. For centuries, Japanese artisans have turned to Urushi because it simply works. Even today, it remains enduring, no synthetic additives, no compromise.